


Deserved Punishment

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, Kneeling On Rice, Masochism, Punishment, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:25:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the Les Mis Kink Meme. Harsh corner time punishment - Courfeyrac under Enjolras and Combeferre. Non-sexual dom/sub within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deserved Punishment

Courfeyrac, it could be said by many people, was an impulsive fellow. He was particularly impulsive, it could also be said, compared to his two counterparts - Enjolras' fury and passion were calculating, and Combeferre's logic and rationality were sound: neither of these two mindsets led themselves to impulsivity in the same way Courfeyrac's fashion did.

And so, occasionally, Courfeyrac would throw himself into a situation that was ill-advised. While it was true than Combeferre and Enjolras would do the same, it was usually in a much less violent fashion. Courfeyrac returned home with barely a scratch on him, it was true, but he had narrowly escaped arrest.

And, unfortunately for Courfeyrac's cleverer, sneakier side, there was no opportunity for him to hide this fact from Combeferre and Enjolras, as both Grantaire and Bahorel had been with him, and while Grantaire would have likely gleefully kept the secret on his own time, Bahorel was an honest man, especially so with chief, guide and centre.

Courfeyrac entered their shared living quarters with averted eyes, carefully closing the door behind him. Enjolras was on him in a flash, grabbing him roughly by the lapels to pull him into the light of the living room, putting his hands on Courfeyrac's face to push his hair back and regard the slight bruise on his temple.

"Calm down." Combeferre said immediately, and Enjolras let out a low, primal growl that made Courfeyrac tremble, but the blond let him go and stalked across the room, throwing himself onto the sofa and putting his hands on his knees. He tightened his grip there enough so that his knuckles whitened, his lips pursing into a thin line.

Combeferre's touch to his face was far gentler, but still for the same reason, and he regarded the slight bruise there with a frown. "Does that hurt?"

"No, not at all." Combeferre nodded, and then he let Courfeyrac go. 

"You were nearly arrested." Combeferre crossed his arms, his shoulders straightening, his chin up. Courfeyrac knew the stern expression that was being fixed on him over the gold-rim spectacles, and he couldn't help but let out a small sound. His worry was confirmed when he looked to Enjolras, whose stature had straightened, and who was now leaning forwards on the edge of the seat with his fingers steepled together.

"Yes."

"For making a scene with a  _police inspector_."

"I-"

"You could have gone to the  _galleys_."

"Yes. But not for-"

"It doesn't matter how long, Courfeyrac, you would have been gone, and our cause would have crumbled,  _all the plans_  we've made would have been dust! Because you cannot hold your tongue!" Combeferre looked at Enjolras, and the blond quietened again, but moved across the room again, dipping to rifle through a cupboard. Courfeyrac made no more protestation: it never served him well.

"He's right, though." Combeferre murmured. "Take your boots and your trousers off."

"Combeferre, please-"

"Courfeyrac." The word was simple, his tone modulated but stern, and Courfeyrac said nothing but begged Combeferre with his eyes. "Take your trousers off."

Enjolras was holding a small sack in his hands as he moved away from the closet, and Courfeyrac heard the familiar sound as he poured the contents onto the floor in the corner. He looked mournfully at the rice on the ground as he took his trousers off.

"I'm sorry."

"You'll be sorrier." Enjolras promised, half grumbling, and Courfeyrac swallowed hard.

"We agreed on punishment from the beginning, Courfeyrac. If it'd been him who'd gotten hurt and almost arrested today, you would have been even worse." Combeferre said, and Enjolras lip twitched.

"My apologies, Courfeyrac. Understand that I worry considerably for your wellbeing." Enjolras said after a short pause. "I- I am fond of you." 

"Which is why you need this punishment." Combeferre said quietly, taking Courfeyrac's trousers and moving to fold them and set them on the top of the cupboard. "You can feel the uncertainty we did when you were out longer than you would have been. The pain we felt at the idea of losing you. 

"I'm already ashamed."

"And when you've been properly chastised, that can pass." Enjolras said, not unreasonably, as he untied the cravat at his neck, and offered it to Courfeyrac. The brunet reluctantly tied the length of fabric over his eyes, blinding him to the room.

The air felt suddenly cold on his bare thighs and backside, and he felt the cold floor underneath his fit much more strongly for the loss of his sight. "Forwards." Combeferre led him with a gentle hand on the base of Courfeyrac's back, and gently lowered him to the ground. 

The rice bit at Courfeyrac's knees, vicious, and he let out a short sound. "We'll tell you when your punishment is over. Do you need me to tie your hands?" Enjolras asked, and Courfeyrac hesitated before he nodded. 

It made the aftermath worse, adding an ache in his shoulders to the desperate pain in his knees, but otherwise he would try and adjust his position, and the whole point of this was to remain still.

He didn't want to disappoint a second time today.

Enjolras tied his wrists tightly together, and Courfeyrac felt the strain in his shoulders immediately, but no more words were said to him, and unless spoken to, he was not allowed to talk.

Enjolras could do this without the blindfold, without the ties at his arms, but Enjolras would occasionally put the rice down on the ground and punish himself without the order. The one time Combeferre had been punished, he had gone without the blindfold, but had been unable to stop his violent trembling as he stayed in place, and afterwards Enjolras and Courfeyrac both had remained careful and tender with him - not just forgiving, but gentle.

The procedure was effective, this Courfeyrac could not deny, but the discomfort during the process never dissipated for having that knowledge.

It must have been a half hour before Courfeyrac let out a cry of pain. He'd adjusted his position in a minute fashion, but it had dislodged the rice beneath him and set new pain alight in his knees. It  _stabbed,_ made the skin there feel rough and wet ( _with sweat, it wasn't blood_ , but Courfeyrac had to repeat that thought a dozen times to believe it) and so  _painful_  he wanted to cry.

He did.

The tears soaked into the blindfold at first, but then he felt them sliding down his cheeks, hot and burning on the skin, and he felt so  _cold_ , with heat only in the ache of his shoulders, the wet tears, and inferno of agony currently occurring in his knees and his straining calves.

Courfeyrac let out another whimper ten minutes later, it must have been, and the next was even sooner than that interval, but then he was letting out ragged sobs, unable to hold back. 

The hands on his wrists made him jolt and let out a yelp, the sudden movement sending rice pressing too tight, too  _excruciating_  against his skin, but then there were hands at his upper arms lifting him up. Courfeyrac fell back a little and leaned heavily on Combeferre as he quickly undid the blindfold, while Enjolras kneeled himself and hurriedly wiped away the rice clinging to Courfeyrac's skin.

"How- how long?" Courfeyrac choked out the question, and suddenly he was trembling as assuredly as Joly shook during a thunderstorm, and he felt strange and faint, the light in the room too much for him.

Combeferre said "Twenty five minutes." quietly, against his shoulder as he untied Courfeyrac's wrists, and then Enjolras was sweeping the rice up to drop it into the sack again. 

"I'm sorry for crying, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Enjolras abandoned the rice to put his hands on Courfeyrac's cheeks, keeping his face still as he seriously met the other man's eyes.

"You did well." He said firmly. "We are proud of you, and you are loved." Courfeyrac's sobbing began again twofold, and Enjolras cradled him carefully, bringing Courfeyrac's face against Enjolras' shoulder to bury it there. "It's alright." He whispered as Combeferre took his place on the ground. "You won't do it again, and that's all that matters."

Enjolras gently led Courfeyrac over to the couch, pushing him to sit on his backside. He regarded Courfeyrac's knees with a clinical gaze, examining the red and white marks criss-crossing the abused skin, before gently patting his calf, comforting.

Combeferre handed Courfeyrac his own handkerchief once he'd put the rice away, and Courfeyrac wiped his face with some desperation, taking in heavy inhalations. Combeferre slid onto the couch at Courfeyrac's right, and Enjolras moved up to settle at his left.

"You're safe, which is all that's important." Combeferre agreed with Enjolras' murmur a few minutes before, and slowly, Courfeyrac's body ceased to be racked with sobs, and he concentrated on the lingering ache in his shoulders and his carves, the dull pain on the skin of his knees. "Do you want to go to bed?"

"God, please." Courfeyrac whispered, and Enjolras was the one to lead him - Courfeyrac would follow Enjolras wherever he led - into the bedroom and carefully push him down on the bed. Enjolras and Combeferre stripped to join him soon enough, and Courfeyrac had one of them on his either side as he preferred.

He preferred to be the centre, as was appropriate.

"You just need to exercise a little more self control." Combeferre said gently as Enjolras blew out the candle on the bedside table. "That's all. It's alright."

"Mmm." Enjolras agreed, and Courfeyrac settled in the darkness, reaching for one of each of their hands. "Go to sleep, Courfeyrac. It will do you good."

"Yes." His eyes were closed now, and he felt the weight of each of their hands in his, enjoyed the warmth of the both of them at his sides. Enjolras' spare hand moved up to pet through Courfeyrac's hair, enjoying the feel of it between his fingers, as Combeferre's spare settled atop Courfeyrac's thighs.

They always slept facing each other, and facing Courfeyrac. 

Courfeyrac would be a liar to claim he did not like it that way, punishment or not.


End file.
